Our Hell Is A Good Life
by Queen of the Highway
Summary: Post SAW IV: Madison is an alcoholic, and is thrust into a game by none other than Jigsaw's successor, Hoffman. But after the game, he wants more than for her to just "appreciate her life"...
1. A Dismal Situation

**A/N:** Please write reviews for this, I cannot even begin to explain how ecstatic I will be if you do. Criticism is greatly appreciated. Oh, and there's more to come, enjoy!

I opened my eyes, but saw nothing. My heart started pounding faster, telling me to run, that something was amiss. But where do I run? I can't see. I clawed at the nothingness in front of me, in hopes of finding an object to grab, to cling to. I was so afraid, I decided to sit down and cower. Too scared to yell, or even whisper. Suddenly the lights flickered a few feet away from me, soon after the whole room was lit. A thick wave of relief crashed over me, but with it so did fear. The walls of the room around me were discolored and dirty; there were bloodstains. I stood up and looked around quickly, imagining the horrors awaiting me. But there wasn't anything in the room but myself. I wondered how I'd gotten myself in this desolate place, with no doors, no windows...

I noticed a tape player lying on the ground. I picked it up and pressed play, the voice that came out was strange and deep.

_"__Hello Madison, I'd like to play a game. Right now you have a slow-acting poison coursing __through your veins. It's a bit like what you do to yoursel__f everyday, except much faster. The only way to avoid your demise is to find the__ antidote I have hidden__. You have until seven to do so. Remember to look for the 'X'."_

The tape clicked off. I felt hot tears spill from my eyes as I began to walk in circles. Why is this happening to _me?_ What does he mean, 'like I do to myself everyday'? Does he mean drinking? That's not… well, it's not straight poison! My mind started to ache in confusion. I glanced around the room for a clock, it was five minutes to two; I had only six hours to save my life! I had to think fast… this couldn't be the end…

Wait. What was that last part of the tape? I rewound the tape player back a bit and hit play. _"…Seven to do so. Remember to look for the 'X'."_Remember the 'X'! I scanned the walls frantically for it, but it was nowhere to be found. I buried my head in my hands and then stared at the ceiling. In the corner of the ceiling was a dusty, white surveillance camera. My heart jumped violently as I realized that someone was watching me… I shivered. I stepped closer to the camera, wondering what they were thinking, what they were doing. I didn't care; I glowered at the camera with all the hate I could muster. I glanced at the clock, now it was two-fifteen. I had to calm down, I needed to clear my mind and think rationally. Where would an 'X' be? The room was empty; there was nothing in it, except for me…

Oh, god, no. This is a joke, right? I examined my arms and legs, nothing there. I lifted my shirt up a bit and checked my stomach… nothing there, either. I sighed in relief; at least I wouldn't have to hurt myself. I began to wonder if there actually was an antidote, maybe I wasn't even poisoned. But, I couldn't just sit and wish for someone to come and save me. Even if I wasn't poisoned, I'd die of starvation. My hair started to stand on end, the thought of dying here, so cold and lonely… once again the tears fell. I circled the room, scanning the walls again, so desperate. As I walked around, the floor made a creaking noise, and one of the floor boards below lifted a bit. I looked down; there was the 'X'! It was almost the same color of the floor. I kneeled down and tried to lift the loose board, it came out quickly. Underneath there was more flooring, but I could see a tiny bit of light creeping through the side. I tore off the boards beside it; it was so easy; this was obviously the way I was supposed to go. It was like a trap door, except instead of a door, it was boarded up. Once all the boards were off, I walked slowly down the stairs.

The new room was just as scary as the last, except there was actually something in it. In the middle of the room there was a key and another tape player. On the other side of the room was a door. The key must open the door, right? And the door must lead to the antidote! I started to run over to the key and then suddenly I heard a quick _snap. _I stopped immediately, scared stiff. A liquid fell on top on the key from above, I looked up and saw a tiny bucket tied to ceiling, turned up-side down. I looked back to the key, it was making a hissing noise and there was smoke coming up. I went to pick it up, but now it was melting! It must have been some sort of acid… I shivered at the thought of it pouring over _me._ I turned to the tape player, what was he going to say now? I quickly tapped the play button and held my breath.

_"If you are listening to this, it means you've triggered a chain of reactions by breaking the small, yet noticeable string. Perhaps you should have thought before acting… just like you should have before you cost your friends their lives."_

My heart thudded harder against my rib cage as he brought back the memories of that horrible night. Who did he think he was? How did he even know about that? Those questions led back to square one: Why am I even here?

The tape continued. _"As you can see… the key is useless. It was the key to the door in front of you, the door which beyond it __lays__ an antidote. It would be quite simple, really… that is, if you had the key. But getting to the antidote now will be much harder. __I suggest you start looking for an alternative way out, the clock is ticking."_

I did as I was told, not that I needed to be. Like before, I struggled to find some sort of secret false wall, or maybe I had to find an 'X' again. My eyes started to burn and swell with tears. I decided to check the time, though I should be continuing to search. I climbed the small amount of stairs and tried to push the trap door up, it wouldn't budge. So it locked itself? Now I couldn't even know how much time I had left. I went back down and clenched my teeth. I felt anger pulsing through my body. I kicked off into a run and sprinted straight towards the door. I jumped at it when I was close enough and sent my foot flying at the door. I fell backwards and hit the cold floor, but I thought I'd actually broken the door. I sat up and frowned at my stupidity. There must have been iron behind the door, my whole leg _throbbed._ I got up and leaned against the stone wall, tapping out a melody with my fingers. There's no way I'd die here, in this… dilapidated, un-kempt… dungeon. I wanted to continue insulting everything, but that was not the way out. Something about the wall in front of me was different; it was slightly a lighter color than the rest of the walls. I walked over to it and pressed my hands against the wall. It felt like Styrofoam. It sure didn't look like Styrofoam, but I pounded my fists at it, I made a small dent in the wall!

I felt almost exultant as I scratched and tore away at the Styrofoam wall. Soon I had a big enough hole to see what was in the next room. My throat seized up as I saw the blood splattered around the dead body. It looked like a man; with short black hair… his other features were hard to make out. My hands shook as I removed more Styrofoam. This was too much, I couldn't handle it. How can this psycho expect so much of me? I couldn't even hear my heart beating anymore. I squeezed through the small hole I'd made and studied the scene. My body couldn't stop shivering. I noticed two long bars on both sides of the dead man's body. They had big, sharp, jagged spears sticking out of their sides. I kept my distance. Also, there were open shackles hanging from the ceiling and from the ground. I tried to piece together what happened, but then I saw yet another tape player – it wasn't for me. It was sitting right next to the corpse, stained with blood. I cringed and reached slowly for the player. I got it and shuffled away from the bloody part of the room. It made the familiar static noise before starting.

_"Hello Don. All your life you've hung on to other people to live. You're always taking, never giving. I'm giving you something too – a chance to save your life. __The chains holding you in place are… easy to unlock. The spears in the bars beside your legs will come out if you tug the chains down. Tug hard enough and you will be released. You have two minutes to do so before the spears beside your head are released. Live or die, make your choice."_

I glanced at Don's lifeless body and my stomach dropped. He only had two minutes to completely maim his legs, and here I am with six hours, and no pain… so far. I started to wonder about how this maniac made these death traps. I walked around the room, looking for something that was meant for me. Maybe I wasn't supposed to find that fake wall. Maybe there were people all around this place having to escape from death traps. If you do escape, what happens then? Does he kill you anyway? I had to stop thinking these things; I was starting to breath heavily. I had to keep a clear mind. Ha, I guess that's the opposite of what I usually think. Maybe I should be here. I always denied it when people accused me of being an alcoholic, but this has made me realize…

…That I really crave wine. White, preferably. I really am a drunk… if I get out of here… maybe… I could try treatment, maybe. But I had to find an antidote first. I shook out of my stupor and started my search once again. Immediately I noticed a dark hallway. It was the only way out, I knew I had to do it… but my nerves were not on my side. Shaking, I entered the dark, musty hallway.

As I continued down the long, dark hall, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I paused and looked behind me; there was nothing except the inviting light of the previous room. No matter how dark and mysterious the next place was, I was not going back in there unless I had to. I tried to brush away the tears, but they were dried on my cheeks; soon to be replaced by fresh ones. My pace quickened, and so did my heart rate. I noticed that I had no way of telling if I had made it out of the tunnel. There was no light ahead; I could already be in another room. I froze in place and tried to feel any walls that might be beside me, there wasn't any. Suddenly, there was light. The whole area was lighted. My eyes adjusted immediately and I scanned my surroundings. Suddenly, I heard an unfamiliar voice behind me. For a short second I felt pressure and then pain on the back of my head, then nothing. My body flinched and fell to the ground and then everything went black.


	2. Tribulation

I awoke but did not open my eyes. My bed was unusually cold and hard, but I didn't mind it. I was too happy that I had woken from my nightmare. That's all it had been… a figment of my imagination, some stupid play my mind had written… a side-effect of mixing vodka and limes? Well, maybe not the last one. Something in the back of my mind told me it wasn't just a dream… my head was aching horribly. I dared to open my eyes; I saw a blurry image of a stone floor. The bright light in this room turned my headache into a migraine. I groaned and propped myself up against the nearest wall.

"Ah!" An unfamiliar voice echoed near me.

My eyes grew wide with fear as I studied the man in front of me. I tried to say something, but what came out was unintelligible. I shook and stared at him blankly.

"S-still alive… I thought you were dead… shit…" he put his hands over his face momentarily and sighed.

My heart pounded so hard it almost hurt. I was so excited to find another _living_ person, but exactly who was this guy?

I finally found my voice. "Who are you?"

He looked away from me. "What's it to you?"

I took an instant dislike to him. I glanced at him; he was pretty average; short dark brown hair, medium build, a t-shirt and sweat pants. I slowly got up, but stayed my distance.

"Um, what did you mean by 'I thought you were dead'?"

"I don't know, well… I was just down this hallway and these lights come on and I see you like, right in front of me. So I just freaked and punched you. Yeah, so like I thought you were dead or something. You gave me a fucking heart attack!" He still looked a little wary of me.

My mind clicked and I remembered the voice and the sudden pain. Then I also remembered that I probably wasted a lot of time…

"How long have I been out?" I started to breath heavily.

"I don't know! Like, uh, twenty minutes? What the fuck is this place?" He said loudly, looking around a lot.

"How should I know?" I paused. "Do you have a tape too?"

He looked confused. "What? Oh, that creepy-ass thing? Yeah, but I don't have it with me. Man, this is shit! The guy on the tape is all like, 'If you don't find the key in the next hour, the bomb attached to the belt you're wearing will explode.'"

I shivered. "Did you… find the key?"

"No. Or else I wouldn't be wearing this." He lifted up his t-shirt to reveal a metal-like belt hugging his sides. On the middle of the belt there was a digital clock counting down: thirty minutes left.

"How can you be so calm? You have a bomb on you!" I shook again.

He smiled. "Ha. This is like, so fake."

I couldn't believe him. He was insane. Then I remembered the room with the dead man, Don.

"Didn't you see the dead guy from the other room? _That_ didn't even convince you?" I asked, motioning to the hallway.

He furrowed his brows. "What dead guy? What other room?"

"Didn't you come from the room just down that hallway?"

"Uh, I came from a room _inside_ the hallway. Show me the dead guy…"

My mind was wandering. "Okay… follow me."

We walked quickly back down the dark hallway, it wasn't as bad with someone there. Even though that someone was a complete stranger whom I'd just met and didn't like. I could see the light from the room again; it was much dimmer than the last. As we entered the room, I could almost hear his mouth drop open.

"Oh – shit!" He covered his mouth and swayed a bit.

I'd seen it before, but I still gagged at the sight of it.

"Now do you believe?"

He seemed preoccupied with his thoughts. "Oh fuck… oh, god… no…"

I almost felt a little sorry for him. I certainly felt empathy. I sighed heavily and then turned back to the hallway.

"Look, I can see you're not going to help me, and you're not in the position to. So just go your way and I'll go mine."

He finally looked me in the eyes. "No! Shit, don't leave me! Just… help me find the key! Here, come with me to the room I woke up in,"

I didn't want anything to do with him, but I couldn't just leave him… he might try to explode right next to me.

"Fine. But I'm on a timer here, too! If you live through this, you'd better help me out! You're not the only one in mortal danger…" I trailed off; he didn't look the kind of guy who takes insults well.

He led me to the room in the hallway. It was small, circular and dim lighted. There was a chair in the middle of the room and a tape on the ground. I picked up the tape.

"See, when I got out of the chair to get the tape, this string broke or whatever and this timer on the belt started…"

I ignored him and pressed the play button.

_"Hel__lo Rick, I want to play a game."_ So that was his name. _"__To get by in what you call a life, you go out to parties and slip drugs into people's drinks to make them fall unconscious. Then you rob them of their money and sometimes take advantage of their un-aware state. I'm giving you a chance to redeem yourself. Notice the belt you are wearing? There is a bomb attached, __when the timer runs out it will explode. You will __need the key to take the belt off__ safely, do not try to __f__orce it off__ by hand, that will make it explode early__. Here's a clue: all you have to do is reach in and grab it. Live or die, make your choice."_

I stared at Rick questioningly. He breathed out quickly.

"What's the clue mean?" I asked, afraid of the answer.

"I guess I know. Follow me." He didn't seem happy, not that he should.

I followed him back into the room I got knocked out in. I noticed that it was not very big, more like a small waiting room. There was a doorway at the end of it, he was taking me there. How many rooms could this place have? My eyes watered, but I kept them at bay.

"What's in there?" I asked, paranoid of _everything._

"It's – like, this… uh," he didn't look like he knew how to describe it. "Well, you'll see. It's fucking sick, _I'm not doing it__." _He murmured the last part.

With a flick of the wrist, he flung the door open and let me enter first. Amazingly, this room – if you could call it a room – was even smaller than the last. It was more like a tiny bathroom, minus the fixtures. In fact, the room was bare.

"I don't see anything," I mused.

"Look down…" he said, frowning.

I did, and saw two circular holes spaced a few centimeters away from each other. Curiosity mixed with nausea, I came closer to them and knelt down to get a better look. Inside each deep hole, there were jagged knives positioned randomly along them. I had no idea as to what they were for, but I knew it couldn't be good.

"Here," Rick said, handing me a small, white letter.

I took the paper and read the small, but horrifying words.

_Reach in._

For no apparent reason, I started to hack and cough. I quickly cleared my throat as best I could, then I directed my attention to Rick.

"So… I guess… it means…" I stated, glancing up at Rick.

"Get started." He said coldly. I didn't understand him.

"What?"

"Hey, I don't have time to waste! Put your hands down those holes and get the damn key!"

My heart fluttered violently. He was mad. It was his 'game'! Not mine. Why should I help him, like _this_Even if I get the stupid key out and he's free – not only are my arms going to be horribly mangled, but I'll have wasted a big chunk of time! I really started to think that I wasn't supposed to find that Styrofoam wall. Ever since I climbed through it, nothing I've seen has had anything to do with me! Wouldn't there be another tape, or note meant for me? Anything! I bet that son-of-a-bitch is laughing at me, safe behind his little cameras. If I get out of here, I swear…

"I-I'm not! That's your job!" I was stuttering stupidly.

He glared at me, he pulled up his shirt. "Look," He pointed at the timer. "You got five fucking minutes to grab the key, or I'll make sure I explode right next to you! Got it?!" His yelling struck my ears hard and made me shiver.

I didn't know what to do, but I decided to do as I was told. There was no way I could escape him, everyone would end up dead that way. The tears I had held back fell freely as my right hand crept closer to one of the holes.

"Please… don't…" I sobbed, pulling my hand away from the devious knives. I glanced at him quickly; he was nervous-looking and sweaty, definitely tense.

"Do it!" he yelled even louder, almost spitting at me.

I didn't know what was scarier; Rick or the knives. I just shook my head and continued crying, hoping he would have mercy.

He clenched his teeth and growled at me, clearly he had anger problems. He'd gone from pretty calm to insanely furious… but I guess that's what happens when you have a soon-to-be-detonated bomb strapped to your abdomen.

He grabbed my arm (almost crushing it in his hand) and stuck it right into the left knife-ridden hole. With all the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I didn't really notice the pain at first. Everything was blurry for a moment and I could hear a small squeaky scream. It was mine. Then the pain finally came, it was horrid. I gazed at my fully engulfed arm, blood everywhere. It was almost up to the shoulder, my head was resting on the dusty wooden floor. The knives tore into my skin slowly as I felt around for the key. They scraped and dug in hard, I screamed and cried but nothing would make him let me stop. Unless, of coarse, the key wasn't in this hole, which was both good and bad news; mostly bad.

"It's not in this one! Stop, stop!" I groaned, watching the skin tear and bleed.

He let go and waited, impatiently. I struggled to bring my arm out of it. Some of the knives were stuck right in my arm, making it even worse trying to get back out. Finally, my gruesome arm was out. I sucked in a deep breath of air and tried to back away from Rick. He glowered at me and took my arm back in his crushing grip, placing it above the other hole. His hand touching the wounds made them sting, tears fell even more. I plunged my arm in the hole myself this time, hoping for it all to end. The pain was even worse, somehow, and once again I heard my screams. I felt what seemed like a key and desperately grabbed at it. I barley got a hold of it, but it was enough. I painfully recoiled my arm up through the hole again and slammed the key on the ground, lying myself on the floor in immense pain. I tried to leave my arm lay on the floor, but it made the stabs and cuts sting more, I could almost feel the pulsing of the blood leaving my veins. I didn't look, but I heard the click of the key in the belt. Rick threw the belt against the wall and exhaled loudly. I moved my head a bit to look at the belt, there were four seconds left, but it had stopped counting down. Everything I looked at was blurred and out of focus. I could hear Rick in the background, but I didn't understand what he was saying. My mouth was really dry and my face felt cold and hot at the same time. I sat there stiffly trying to block out Rick's noises. Then I felt the familiar sense of my mind drifting and I fell unconscious once again.

---

The walls were a pale olive-brown color, they were dirty and peeling. I stared at the walls for a while and felt… melancholy. I had a slight pain in my head, but it wasn't a headache. I slowly recalled what had happened and I looked at my right arm. At that point I didn't know what I felt, but it was mixed with seething pain. That arm was like a rock; it felt heavy and sharp, I didn't want to move it. I noticed that my skin was as pale as it'd ever been, ever. It must have been from blood loss. I wondered how I hadn't died yet. Suddenly I felt nauseous; I tilted my head to one side and waited for it. My ribs felt sore and my stomach churned. It finally came up and so did tears. After it was done, my tired eyes opened and I saw a little vomit, but mostly blood. My heart pounded at the sight and I found the strength to move away from the disgusting sight. I touched my fingers to my lips, there was blood. I was scared and confused, where did the blood come from? It didn't take me long to figure it out. It was most likely an affect of the poison. I cried out in anguish quietly, I knew no one would hear me. But then what about Rick? Where did that cruel bastard go? He just… left me here? I was a little angry, but it was probably best that he wasn't here. I wiped away the blood and tears and then got up. I tried to focus my eyes, but everything was still a little blurry. I was still in the tiny knife-hole room. I gazed lazily at the knives soaked in my blood. The blood was dry; it had been a while since I passed out. I wondered how much time I had left.

I left the room dizzily, bumping against the walls and tripping over things that weren't there. I finally made my way back into Don's room, careful not to stare at the scene to much. I stopped for a minute to catch my breath, I had no energy. I was so weak, but also very desperate. I pushed my hair behind my ears and looked around. A door I hadn't seen before was a couple meters beside me, how had I missed it? I felt like such an idiot. I dragged my sore legs toward whatever else awaited me.


	3. Reassurance

To my surprise, the door was unlocked. I peeked inside, the lights weren't on. I let my head droop down in disappointment. Maybe dying wouldn't be so bad. I'd like a little right now. I pushed the door back further and it made an ominous creaking noise, I shivered more. I took a small step forward and put my hands in front of myself. As far as I could tell, there wasn't anything in front of me – but I tripped anyway. I hit the ground hard on my bad arm; I was in too much pain to scream. My eyes were closed tightly trying to absorb the pain, I hadn't noticed that the lights had come on. I finally opened my eyes and tried to stand. My eyes burned and I closed them again, I swayed in place. I felt like I wasn't in my body anymore and that the ground was like foam, I jumped a little like a person does when they dream they're falling. After coughing up more blood, I used all my strength to study my surroundings. Across from me there was an odd glass tube held up like a chandelier so that it didn't touch the ground. I stumbled over to it and stared; there were sharp, flat metal panels at the base of it. Before I tried anything, I noticed an infamous mini-tape player taped to the side of the contraption. My muscles were weak, but I managed to slowly rip the tape off and press play.

_"Notice the glass__ cylinder in front of you? It's__ the container of the antidote, Madison. It is at the very top, sealed by a retractable flap. To obtain it successfully, yo__u must climb into it first; once inside, press the button and the antidote will be exposed. All you have to do is reach up and grab it… but if you do not reach it sixty seconds after the button is activated, then the daggers at the base will plunge into your legs, wielding you unable to escape; making this your tomb. Live or die, make your choice."_

The tape cut off and I let it drop to the ground. This was it, everything was going to end. I was going to _die._ I had to try though, maybe… I could make it. I crawled under the base of it, and started to inch my way up slowly. It was a tight fit, the daggers scraped my skin. I groaned and finally I was standing upright. I found a small gray button on my left. It was hard to bend my arms in the small space, so I just leaned my shoulder on it, it worked. I looked up and saw the flap retreat back inside somewhere in the tube. The antidote was hanging by a string, just barely low enough for me grab… if I jumped. The ground started to move again, I leaned on the side of the tube. I flinched and stopped touching the sides, they were burning hot! He didn't tell me about that! It must have started when I pushed the button, which reminded me: I had only seconds to grab that antidote! I jumped – if you could call it that – and missed it by a millimeter. The daggers rubbed against my skin angrily. I tired again, missed.

Now my legs were bleeding and I didn't know how much longer I could possibly hang on. _Just try one more time, one more time and then you can give up, _I thought desperately. I pressed my hands against the burning sides and hoisted myself up. I couldn't feel my fingertips anymore, but the pain was everywhere else. I just barely brushed my hands on the antidote, I thought I didn't get it; but my finger had caught in the string and pulled it down with me. When the string broke the daggers retracted back leaving a clear way to freedom. Every part of me was shaking violently; I crouched down and crawled as far as I could get away from the trap. I had no idea how much time I had before the poison finished me, but I could guess. My hands shakily fumbled with the cap of the vial. I didn't even think twice before consuming it. It didn't taste like anything, but the cool moisture cascading down my throat was enough.

I was so damaged, so breakable. I couldn't think straight and everything that was me was aching horribly. I continued laying there, every second feeling like an hour. Suddenly, a door opened somewhere in the room. My heart felt like it was being punched. I gave a little shudder as the figure grew closer. My sight still wasn't back to normal, but I could see that he was tall and hooded.

"Congratulations, you are still alive. So many take that for granted…" his dark voice flooded my ears, all I could do was stare.

I tried to say something, but nothing came out. My breathing quickened.

"…but not you, not anymore,"

I imagined that by now he would have killed me, but instead he just gazed at me; not that I could see his face.

I shuffled away from him, terrified.

"You can leave, if you want." He was going to let me go?

It was incredibly painful, but I managed to bring myself up and limp towards the door he entered. I kept looking back to make sure he wasn't tricking me. As I reached for the door handle, the emotion finally reached me. I started to sob quietly, feeling my face turn red and my eye brows rise. I had made it, I was alive. I clenched the handle and stood there for a moment, afraid of what was behind the door. I was stronger then that, I'd proven it today. I opened it and to my surprise light from _outside _was shining on the steps. I looked behind me again; the figure was gone. I bolted up the stairs and let the door slam behind me. I stopped running after I was two blocks away. It was getting darker, not many people were outside. It must be around five, or else I'd be dead by now. It was the bad side of town, I was in an alleyway. I paused and took in a deep, sharp breath. Was I going to tell anyone? What if he didn't want me to tell? But then, he would have told me not to…

I shivered and continued going whatever direction I was heading. But, _where_ was I going? Back to my tiny dilapidated apartment? I'd have to in the long run. I noticed that I was thinking clearly again – the antidote was working. I stopped to rest for a bit, the adrenaline had worn off and I knew I was in no condition to run around. I glanced at a partially broken window to see my reflection; I looked horrible. There were blood stains all over me, some still new. My arm that had been forced into the knives looked infected. My hair was stringy and tangled; my face had a dead look to it, made worse with the bleeding mascara and eyeliner. I was a wreck and felt like one too. I dragged my sore, broken body towards the main sidewalks. There I found a bus stop, I sat down and waited. Here there were a lot more people around, each one that walked past gave me looks of fear, some disgust, but mostly they didn't care. I wanted so desperately to run up to someone and tell them everything, to have their sympathy and help. But I couldn't, it didn't feel right… I wanted to keep this eerie secret bottled up forever; to forget everything and go back to the simple life I had before.

I could hear the faint roar of a large vehicle coming closer. I knew it was the bus, that it wasn't anything to be afraid of; but I shook even more so. It stopped in front of me and the doors flung open. So many noises, I couldn't stand it. I climbed on the bus and turned to take a seat, the driver stopped me.

He looked me up and down. He probably thought I was some drug-addict. "You got one-fifty?"

I froze, embarrassed. Of coarse I didn't have any money on me. I really did need to get home, though…

"Um," my voice was hoarse and shaky, I tried to clear it. "I-I don't… have…"

He didn't look as friendly anymore. "You'll have to get off, then,"

Oh, shit. What was I going to do? I couldn't just walk home; I didn't even know where I was! If I didn't have somewhere to stay the night, I'd probably die… I was in such bad condition. The answer came to me.

"H-hospital, can you take me to the nearest…?" I tried not to shake as much.

"Oh! Oh, god. Of course, I thought… sorry. Are you okay? What happened? Who-"

I ignored him and slumped into a lonely, dirty seat. The other passengers tried to avoid me. Finally the bus driver started to drive again; I stared out the window, careful not to rub my arm against the cold metallic wall. Everyone these days were so assuming, judgmental. If I saw someone like me walking into their bus, I'd have asked what the matter was. I didn't care if anyone cared, though. Besides, in these parts, lots of people look disheveled and wounded. After about five minutes, the bus came to a quick stop.

"Hey, the hospitals right over there. Do you need help? For god sakes, what's gone on?" I ignored most of his questions.

"I'll be fine, um, t-thanks."

As the bus doors opened the cool air brushed against my skin. I kept my mind off the pain as I walked towards the hospital. I wondered what I'd tell the doctors, I wasn't going to tell them the truth. What could've done this much damage, other than the horrible truth? Falling down the stairs isn't going to work. Who says I need to tell them, anyway? Actually, I don't even know what happened. Yeah, he _did_drug me – that's the truth. But that's all I'm saying. Before I realized it, I was already entering through the big, automatic doors. Almost instantly, a nurse noticed me and ran over.

"Dear! What happened? Let me take you into emergency!" She didn't even let me answer, which was fine by me.

I groaned as she put her hand on my back, urging me forward. The bright whiteness of the hospital burned my eyes, but it was also soothing to be surrounded by it. Finally she sat me down in a comfy pale blue chair and told me to stay while she got doctors to look me over. It was nice to be sitting down again, the scrapes on my legs burned, but all was good. I was amazed that I was so calm, so un-hysterical. I was still shaking badly and crying a bit, though. The nurse came back with two other people by her side.

"Do you have your health insurance card with you?" She asked, looking worried.

I shook my head.

"Well, we'll get it from you later, then."

One of the doctors to her side spoke up. He had a wheelchair beside him. "Do you want to walk, or do you need this?"

I nodded; I didn't want to walk another day in my life. The nurse left and the second doctor helped me into the wheelchair.

"Can you tell us what happened?" He said absently.

"N-not… really…" I paused to breathe. "I think I was drugged, I don't r-remember. I woke up… like this."

The man wheeling me into the room whispered to the man who'd asked the question. I only caught part of it, "Jigsaw, maybe?" I wondered what Jigsaw was. "No, I don't think so."

They set me down in the fluffy white bed, I wanted to sleep.

"Before we do anything, what's your name and age?" The first doctor asked, holding up a clip board.

"Madison Jack… I'm twenty-two."

He nodded, put down the clip board and started to examine me. He asked me about almost everything; my arm, legs and even the small burns on my hands. They talked about trauma and the many bruises. Apparently I had a lot more wrong with me than I thought. When they were done they put me on pain killers, gave me water and told me that I'd be in here for a couple days. I had gauze wrapped around my arm after it had been cleaned and I fell asleep almost the second they turned the lights off. I tried to stay awake; I was paranoid that he was coming back for me. My tired eyes slowly gave up and shut, I secretly knew all was well.

**A/N:** This isn't the end of the story! It's only just begun. But don't worry, it'll be good. Also, REVIEW OR ELSE I won't post chapter four! Thanks for reading.


	4. Confrontation

I knew I was awake, but I didn't want to be. My body was stiff and I kept my eyes closed tightly. I could feel the warmth of the light from the window shining down on me; it was a nice feeling. I never wanted to leave. Already the pain had improved; I wondered what I looked like. Suddenly, it all came back to me in a flash; images of blood, the horrible rooms and the unimaginable pain flooded my mind. Rick! What happened to him? I couldn't know for sure, but I had a feeling that he didn't make it. My eyes flickered open and scanned my surroundings, the same clean, white hospital room as before. I tried to stretch, it hurt too much. I noticed a glass of water sitting on the nightstand next to me. I reached for it and sipped slowly. A woman in a long, white coat entered the room.

"Hello," she started, sitting down in a chair beside me. "I'm Dr. Albrecht."

I nodded and set the water down.

"I'm just going to check up on you and make sure there are no new infections, you feeling better?"

"Sort of…" I sighed, wincing at the stinging of the alcohol swabs she was applying to my arm.

Oh, liquor! I missed that the most. I could almost see myself licking the alcohol swabs – but of coarse I wouldn't. Oh, just once more… I _needed_ it! The psycho won't care if it's just _one _drink. The minute I get out of here…

The phone rang suddenly, I jumped a little. Dr. Albrecht picked it up. She talked for a few seconds and then hung up.

"Two detectives are here to see you," she said questioningly. "They'll come up here, are you okay with that?"

My heart beat faster, _detectives?_ Did they know what happened?

"Um, yeah… it's okay."

After giving me more pain killers, she left. I waited anxiously for the detectives to arrive. I pondered what they were going to ask me, I tried to think of good lies.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, two shady looking characters entered.

"Are you Madison Jack?" The first one asked. He had light blond hair and wore a dark brown trench coat.

I hesitated. "Yeah, who are you?"

"I'm detective Hayes and this is detective Moreau, we want to ask you a couple questions, if it's all right with you."

I wondered what they'd say if I said it wasn't alright. I decided to cooperate anyway.

"Okay,"

Moreau smiled slightly, he had thick dark hair and wore a black jacket with jeans.

"I know this might be hard for you, but you need to tell us the truth." He paused, looking for my reaction. I stayed still. "First off, how did you end up like this?"

"I don't know. I think I was drugged, I woke up like this." I answered automatically.

Hayes spoke up. "Have any idea of who could've done it?"

"No," I murmured.

The two detectives exchanged glances. I tried to decode what they were saying to each other.

"So you're saying that someone drugged you, cut you up a bit, burned only a bit of your hands slightly and left you to wake up and discover that you had few new injuries?" Moreau said, sounding dissatisfied.

"Um, well, yeah… I guess." I said quietly, playing with the ends of the cushy blanket nervously.

They didn't look like they were buying it. I felt my cheeks burn a little.

"Do you know who Jigsaw is?" Moreau asked suddenly.

"Who's Jigsaw?" I asked back. I'd heard those doctors mention it before.

He frowned. "Jigsaw is a notorious serial killer. He puts people in… odd traps that they can only escape by hurting themselves. We came here to ask you these things because it sounded a bit like the other cases. We don't want to scare you, but we need you to tell us everything! Now, are you _sure_ you don't remember anything else? No trap or anything unusual? A tape recorder, perhaps…?"

I started to shake, but I didn't think they could see it. Jigsaw, was that his name? Traps, tape recorders… it definitely fit the description. I really wanted to tell them now, but something told me not too. It was stupid; any sensible person would've told the _whole world_ by now. I guess I wasn't too sensible.

"No, sorry… I-" this was it. I could either tell them everything, or tell them nothing. I could bring down a serial killer, or live my life as if nothing happened. Oh, whatever. "I can't remember a thing."

Moreau and Hayes sighed together. "Well, thanks anyways."

They started to leave when Moreau turned on his heels swiftly to face me. "Are you sure? Not even a _tape?__"_

"Give it up, Andre." Hayes mumbled, pressing his back slightly.

As they left I couldn't help but crack a small smile. I knew it was _unspeakably_ bad to lie like that, but no one would ever know. I sat there for a while, scaring myself by thinking about my… _experience._ I would never have to talk about it to anyone and I'd live my life the way it was before. Or maybe not… I didn't know for sure, but the reason I even went through that was because of my drinking. Vaguely I remembered telling myself that I'd get into rehab or at least try to quit. No, I had to stop. What was so great about drinking anyways? It had become such a habit, such a routine that I didn't really notice. Sure, the taste was nice; but at what cost? Throwing up every other night, having horrendous headaches, waking up in someone's house after a party and not remembering anything from the previous night? Something clicked in my mind and I saw images from the last party I went to. I was talking to these guys… then this other one got me another drink… then someone was dragging me off the dance floor, I turned around… then everything went blank. It was hard to figure out the fuzzy pictures, but I understood. Whoever it was that dragged me away was the psycho. But it didn't matter now, it was over and I would live on. In a way, I guess he kind of did help me. I contemplated his cold words, "…You are still alive. So many take that for granted…" he was right. "…but not you, not anymore," right again. I'd get better; I would turn things around.

A nurse came in and gave me a small smile. "Good news, we're only going to keep you here till tomorrow. You're healing quite fast!"

"Thanks," I replied, managing a weak smile.

She left and I drowned in my thoughts. What was I going to do once I got back to my apartment? I lost my job recently, I had little money… and it's not like I can land a job before my next rent. I held back tears; there was no way this was going to work. I pulled the covers over my head and tried to sleep.

---

"Are you awake?" Someone asked.

"Yes…" I mumbled.

"Sorry to wake you, but are you well enough to leave? Or would you like to stay longer?"

"Oh! I'll go," I said, tried to climb out of the bed.

She looked a little worried. "Okay, just sign this please."

I took the clip board she was holding and signed it, already at the door. Finally I was out of this boring place! I couldn't quite run yet, but every step felt like a small victory. Soon I was out the main doors and into the streets. Then I remembered that I didn't have any cash. I reluctantly walked back to the hospital and borrowed enough for one bus ride, I found it hard to believe that they'd actually help me out like that. I finally caught a bus and soon I found myself walking down the familiar street towards my apartment. It was all going so fast, I loved it. I was almost back to normal, too. I had some scars and my muscles were sore, but other than that I was healthy. I shakily opened my door – I never locked it. Inside it was the same, cold and empty. I flung myself onto the lone couch and sighed; it was good to be home. I knew what I really wanted… I tried to fight it, but gave in. I went straight to the fridge and took out a long, slender wine bottle. It felt nice and smooth in my hands, for some reason I started to shake. I leaned against the now closed refrigerator door and popped the cap off. I stared out the window across from me, the sun was setting beautifully. The chilled liquid swam down my throat and gave me goose bumps. It stung my mouth and gave off the delicious flavor, I smiled largely. Suddenly, a shadow emerged from the living room. I gasped and let go of the wine bottle, it fell to the ground and made a loud _crack _which made me cringe. The wine spilled on me and pooled around my feet, the glass reflected the sun into my eyes. The shadowy figure stayed still. My body flinched and I slipped on the wine, I caught myself and stood against the wall shivering madly. Finally whoever it was came forward, I started to cry.

"Please don't hurt me!" I started, my voice was shrill.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the familiar voice said, pulling back the hood of his cloak.

I stared in horror; the psycho was back, probably to finish the job. This wasn't supposed to happen! I was going to – well, my plans had just backfired. So I had one drink, now I have to die?

I studied his face; he looked to be in his thirties. He had short brown hair and looked very average. Something about him was familiar…

He continued. "Don't be afraid of me, I'm nothing to fear. I was here to… check on you. Something I rarely get to do with my subjects. Do you know who I am?"

I remembered him from somewhere; I just couldn't put my finger on it.

Before I could stop myself I blurted out, "I know you're a psycho!"

He hid a smile. "Your friend, Karen, got shot at a party one night. I was a detective on that case and I questioned you. At first we thought you were apart of the shooting, not a bystander. We have a file on you."

His words stabbed my heart, why'd he have to bring back these painful memories?

"I don't understand…!" I said, sounding very panicky.

"You will, in time. I'm here to help you, Madison. We both know you need it… you have nothing left here… you're even turning back to that poison…"

Now I knew for sure that it was the man who put me in that horrible 'game'. I started crying again; he was right about _everything_I didn't have anything left, I had to stop pretending.

"H-how… could you… help _me?__" _I murmured, feeling like I was being pitied.

He paused, staring at my weak state.

"That's right! Y-you can't help someone like me! I'm fucking hopeless!" I exploded, staring him right in the eyes for the first time.

"You can stay with me. I'll make sure you don't get your hands on liquor and you don't have to pay me anything. Trust me, Madison."

He's asking me to stay with him!? But he's a… _murderer!_

"What? S-stay… with… no! Please, just… leave! I don't need…"

"Where else are you going to go? Jump from party to party after you can no longer pay your rent? Become homeless and have to resort to stealing and prostitution just to nurse your addiction? Stay with me Madison, get the help you've been searching for all your life."

I didn't care how right he was, how could I…? Oh, I didn't know what to do… it was so confusing! I've always done stupid, risky things… but this would be the worst. Of course I would stay with him – if he wasn't a serial killer!

"A-are you… _J__igsaw?_I asked,almost whispering the last part.

He hesitated. "That's what most call me, but my name is Hoffman."

**A/N:** Yeah, when I was writing this I noticed that we don't know Hoffman's first name yet. Hopefully they'll tell us in SAW V. I don't know what to make his first name until then so for now his name is Hoffman… also, 5 REVIEWS OR ELSE NO CHAPTER 5. Okay, thanks for reading!


	5. Last Resort

I sighed and tried to relax a bit, I was too tense. Hoffman watched my face intently, scanning for an answer. Living with a killer? Free help, but what were his real intensions? He must have things planned; he knows what he's going to do. He knows if I'll die tonight… or live tomorrow. Here I was, a poor alcoholic problem child just waiting to vanish from the world. I never thought of it like this, but before this whole sick incident, my life was the same thing over and over. Finally something new happens; a chance to turn my life around, even. I thought I didn't care about anything – why should I now? Living with a killer… it had a ring to it. Ha, I knew I was losing my mind. I'd been losing it ever so slowly and now I've accepted it. Fine, I'll move in with this mysterious, murderous… man. If he kills me in his sleep, okay. I don't care. I'm _done._ I probably would've committed suicide later on, anyway.

"...O-okay. I-I… I don't… care. I'll stay with you." I said in my smallest voice, look of deep regret written on my face.

He looked partially surprised, but concealed it quickly. "Good choice… so many would turn away such an opportunity…"

I sighed heavily and wished that he'd stop with his maddening philosophy of life. I'd only stay until I was better, though. Until I knew I could walk out and not try to get drunk. Then I could get a job and start over, staying with this guy was just a stepping stone. It was crazy - but what other choice did I have? He would provide me with food, shelter and no alcohol… it was almost perfect. Flash backs of my ordeal hit me every time I glanced at him, but I would get over it. So he tried to kill me, apparently it was with the best intentions… ugh, I knew there were holes the size of the Grand Canyon in my logic. Wait, what logic?

"Follow me," he said abruptly, interrupting my dizzying train of thought.

I was still too horrified and tired to react quickly. I finally gathered up my courage and responded as his fingers touched the door knob.

"Wait, I haven't gotten a chance to wash up… or even rest a bit! C-couldn't… I just-"

"You can when we get there. I don't live in a dungeon, I have a shower." He interjected, continuing to open the door and wait for me.

I stood there rather stiffly, shaking and over-thinking my decision. _If he doesn't kill me after I walk through the door, then I'll trust him… for now,_ I thought to myself, slowly walking towards him. He held it open for me as I went through it, feeling his eyes watching me. I took a couple more steps forward, stopped and sighed. I put my face in my hands and stood for a moment, trying to calm down. I opened my eyes and saw that Hoffman was already walking down the stairs; I ran over quickly but stayed my distance. We walked in silence as he led me to his car; it was an old black '67 Chevy Impala. It was a nice car, but it reminded me of a funeral car; was I setting myself up? No one else would do this but me. It was very awkward getting into his car; do I sit in the front with him or the back? Both had faults; if I sit in front I'm sitting next to a serial killer. If I sit in the back I'll feel more like a serial killer's latest victim. It didn't matter; once he got inside he unlocked the passenger door. I hesitated and reluctantly climbed into the car and sat down on the surprisingly cushy seat. He started the car and sped out of the area, looking around every so often to make sure no one was following us. I sat as far away from him as possible and continued sobbing quietly. I was so exultant that I'd have free living and alcohol control… but I couldn't get over the whole Jigsaw thing. He made me angry, knowing everything like he did. He already seemed to know every detail about me – it wasn't fair. He knew enough to know that I would stay with a murderer if he provided me with the necessities.

"How do you know so much about me?" I asked, almost whining.

He didn't take his eyes off the road. "I'd rather explain things once we get there,"

"So you have more time to plan killing me?" I said darkly, shocked that I had any confidence left.

"I'm not going to kill you." He stated plainly, taking a sharp turn down an empty road.

I tried to believe him, but he'd attempted to already. Why was he helping me, anyway? It was all too suspicious, I could hardly stand it. Once again, a_ normal_personwould've never done any of this. A normal person would probably have died of a heart attack by now.

"Where are you taking me?" I said shakily.

He didn't answer, it worried me. Finally he looked like he was about to say something.

"I'm bringing you to my place, where you'll sober up and start living your life." There was certain coldness in his voice.

I nodded and sighed, my muscles were aching again. That reminded me, I hadn't brought any pain killers or other personal belongings with me.

"Um, I need to bring a few things back with me if I'm going to live with you for a while… like my pain killers…" It felt weird actually confirming that I was staying with him.

"I have medicine there, you'll be fine." He said, coming to a stop in an abandoned-looking area.

He got out quickly and walked towards a big run-down warehouse. This was his _home_But I guess you shouldn't expect much from a serial killer. Ugh, that dreadful, over-used word shook my body. I needed better ways to think of him; Hoffman, that's his name, I should use it!

I got out and followed him around to the back of the warehouse. Some of the few windows were broken and boarded up; the paint was faded and cracked. He took out a rusted metal key and stuck it in a small door and entered the house. I followed cautiously behind him, it was dark and dirty here. He continued forward and entered another room while I studied this one. There were racks with either books or various metal pieces messily tossed on them. It looked a bit like a mini junkyard, minus the garbage and plus the scrap metal. I went through to the next room and what met my eyes made my heart thump violently. I almost gasped as I saw them; rows of strange mechanical devices… dummies and Styrofoam heads… guns, wrenches, anything scary or harmful – you would find it here. I let out a small sound of discontent and backed up against the wall. I must have been having a panic attack, everything reminded me of my ordeal and the horrors I'd witnessed. I curled up into a tight ball and shut my eyes.

"Madison!" Hoffman yelled from across the room.

"Leave me alone, I need a moment." I said in a muffled voice, trying to calm down.

I heard footsteps coming closer, maybe he didn't hear me. I raised my head up and saw a slightly worried Hoffman watching me.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Uh, look around." I retorted, standing up.

He gazed at the organized mess and then nodded.

"Well, anyways, unless you'd rather sleep here… your room's further down that hallway."

I murmured a weak "Okay," before trotting off to inspect my new home. I looked behind me one last time before heading down the hallway, he had disappeared. I wanted to run, but decided against it. I found a door and opened it eagerly. Inside it was not too big and not too small; there was a small bed and nightstand. The walls and flooring were still cold and uncomfortable, but I couldn't really complain. I sat down on the bed and opened up the first drawer in the nightstand. A bottle of pain killers were inside; how thoughtful… and unexpected. I twirled off the cap and took one. Inside the next drawer were a toothbrush and toothpaste, a hairbrush and a facecloth. It was so weird, I could hardly stand it. What was he, my Mom? I shiver ran down my spine. I walked out of my new room and went back through the hallway. I casually scanned the rows of mechanical contraptions, trying to figure them out. One of them caught my eye; it sat around a Styrofoam head and made it look like a sunflower, a rusty, gray, sharp metallic sunflower. I looked at the back of the head, there was a clockwork-like box attached with a wire stuck to a wooden board. It reminded me of how when Rick got out of his chair, the string connected to the chair and his belt broke off, which started the timer. I tugged hard on the wire, it broke and ticking started. My heart skipped a beat and I stepped back to watch the show. Tick, tick, tick… I waited, mesmerized. Suddenly, the razor petals plunged into the Styrofoam head instantly. My mouth was ajar and my eyes wide. What a horrible death…

"What the - hey! Don't go around touching things you don't understand!" Hoffman said gruffly, walking over and starting to reset the trap.

"S-sorry," I said weakly.

Note to self: get better as soon as possible.

**A/N: **Like it so far? REVIEW** 6 **TIMES OR NO CHAPTER 6. Last time I said review 5 times and I got 4, but I really wanted to add the next chapter. This time I'll only take 6. Thank you for reading! It's going to keep getting better. Oh, and sorry that it's a bit shorter than the other chapters.


	6. History

**IMPORTANT A/N: **Yeah, yeah. I know I said review 6 times or no chapter 6... but whatever. I just want to get on with my story! But please, review anyways, 'kay? I'm not going to put those 'review or else' things on it anymore, but it would really make my day if you would. Thanks!

I didn't sleep well that night. Although I felt better after taking a shower, it was awfully disturbing living in a serial killer's home. There weren't any windows in my room and I kept my door closed for obvious reasons. When I finally woke up I tried to keep calm and go about my daily business. After that I looked for Hoffman, I hadn't seen him at all yet. I hadn't explored much of the warehouse, not that I wanted to. I found him immersed in his 'work,' steadily jotting down notes and fiddling with folders. I crept up behind him and tried to see what he was doing. He heard me and glanced at me once before putting away the folder and covering the notes with his left arm.

"Yes?"

"Oh, nothing," I paused. "Um… what're you doing?"

"I'm working... are you hungry? There's coffee and cereal made."

I had to think about it. I was hungry… but how do I know what he put in the food?

"I'm good… uh, about the things I left behind… when can I get them?" I asked, longing for my cheap yet stylish cell phone. I missed my friends.

"Depends… what do you want to get?" He said, sounding displeased.

"Just a couple of things… please?"

"Tell me what those things are."

I hesitated. "Things, okay? Like, my clothes... my... um, cell phone-"

He cut me off. "No cell phone. Clothes... fine, go ahead. I'll drive you."

"What? Uh, say again? How is it up to you?" I said angrily, starting feel scared again.

He sighed heavily, standing up straight. "Look, I'll drive you right now... but no cell phone, got it? Do you honestly think I could risk that?"

I tried to comprehend his words, I didn't fully understand. "Well,... fine. Just - let's go."

He started off towards the exit door and I followed shakily behind. I still wasn't used to all this — should I be? I really thought I was out of my mind... putting myself in such a situation. We got into the car and sat in silence, everything in this new life was awkward so far. He sped out of the deserted waste-land and in ten minutes we were there. I glanced at the poorly kept apartment complex and sighed. We exited the car and climbed the stairs, still in dead silence. When we got into my apartment he took a seat on my small couch and waited. He was more creepy than usual today... I shook more. I went into my almost empty room and grabbed some outfits and various hair things. My cell phone was still laying on my bed, tempting me. I went to leave the room, but I made the mistake of looking at it again. I ran over and stuck it in my bra; he'd never check there. As I left my room and saw Hoffman staring me down, I felt guilty. But I ignored it and gave him a small smile that was more like a smirk.

"Okay, I'm ready." I mumbled, opening the door.

I almost had a heart attack as I met my land lord's hazel eyes. They didn't look to happy.

"Where were you?!" They yelled, glowering at me.

"Uh-" I started, panicking. I was basically broke, I didn't even have half the rent.

"More importantly, where's my dough! Huh?" They said, even meaner-looking. I was definitely screwed.

Suddenly Hoffman pushed me aside. "How much?"

They hesitated, then formed a smile. "One-thousand, you got it?"

Hoffman forked out a bunch of crumpled green bills, then glanced at me shortly.

"And that's it, she doesn't live here anymore."

I could hardly believe him, did he really just pay my rent?

"Huh, whatever, just clear your crap out. Thanks, man." He said, turning back down the hallway.

I started to cry and tried to brush them away, but they kept coming down strong. Hoffman started down the stairs without me, I tried to keep up.

"T-thank you," I muttered.

He turned to nod at me but did a double-take when he saw my tears.

"What's wrong?" He asked, actually looking concerned.

I took a deep breath before answering. "It's... it's just... no one's ever been so nice to me before... been so kind, helpful..."

He looked embarrassed. "Don't worry about it."

The ride 'home' was even worse in awkwardness. Forget being silent, I couldn't hear anything. Things cooled off once we got home, but I was still overwhelmed by this sudden kindness; by a serial killer, no less. I murmured another "Thanks," before running over to my room to cry more tears of joy. Maybe things would get better... I still didn't have a lot of belief in that, but something was there. I just hoped that I wouldn't get killed in the process. I pulled myself together and started to put my clothes away in the small nightstand drawer. I decided to change into something else, as I did I remembered my cell phone. I took it out and turned it on. As soon as it did, the screen turned black and unresponsive again. Shit! I forgot the charger... this was going to cost me. I needed Hoffman to drive me, but that was out of the question. I cursed to myself and threw it in the drawer between some clothes. I left my bedroom and walked into the workshop area, Hoffman wasn't there. I noticed he hadn't put the mysterious folders and notes away, I wasn't going to kid myself; I knew I was going to snoop. I picked up the first folder and flipped it open. At the top it read, "Leon Whitman," scrawled messily. The rest was still hard to read, I didn't bother with it. There was also a photo paper-clipped to it, most likely of Leon. He had shaggy, dirty blond hair and looked to be in his late twenties. He was pretty skinny, too, but he wore baggy clothing. He didn't look like he knew someone was taking a picture of him; he was looking to his side and still walking. Slowly, I started to get what these folders were about. It was soon-to-be victim's of Hoffman - or Jigsaw's, gruesome 'games'. I shivered involuntarily. I threw the folder back on the pile and glanced at the notes. They were sketches of the human anatomy, plus strange mechanical contraptions either fitted on them or on the side. It was all so nasty, but I knew, somehow, I was getting used it. Well, not exactly _used_ to it... but 'immune' to it. I sighed and turned to leave. But when I did, my arm swung to far out and I knocked over a small file-holder, full of at least thirty folders. I hissed and bent down to put them all back. One of them was open, I couldn't help but look it over. Like before, at the top there was the person's name. It read, "Amanda Young," much neater than the last. It definitely wasn't Hoffman's handwriting. Her photo wasn't very flattering; her hair was tied back messily and she looked tired and dirty. She looked around my age. I decided to read the notes on the page, seeing as they were legible.

_Heroin _

_Rm. 109, Apt. building across from convenient store_

_club/dealer's/streets_

_possible apprentice _

_Jaw splitter_

I contemplated the strange notes, my heart jumped at the last one. Jaw splitter...? I didn't even want to know. Heroin... it looked like whoever wrote this was getting heroin from this Amanda, but it probably just meant she was addicted to it. Because that's what this was all about, right? People with problems... and 'helping' them. What really bugged me about this, though, was the "possible apprentice" thing. Apprentice... a bit like accomplice, does that mean that she was apart of this whole horror factory? That is, if she lived through her test. I shivered at the thought of myself having a folder. I bet I did, but I wasn't about to look for it. I shut the folder and continued to put them all away. As I started to fit them back into the file-holder, Hoffman casually walked into the room. I felt my cheeks burn, not only was I caught red-handed, that could actually be literal if he got mad enough.

"What are you doing?" He asked bluntly, furrowing his brows.

"Nothing!" I said too quickly - and nervously. "I... was just -"

"Invading my privacy. Get out of there." He sighed, but sounded as if he understood.

I stepped out of his way and watched him fiddle with the folders.

"Why were you looking at these old things?" He questioned, looking at me curiously.

"I didn't mean too, I accidently knocked them over... so... there was one that was open..." I said in a small voice.

He seemed satisfied with my explanation.

"Um, is Amanda here? I mean,"

"Amanda? What -" He started.

"Amanda Young... oh, sorry. It's from that folder I saw, I don't know, it just said something about apprentice; so I thought she's here, right? Um..."

He looked like he was about to laugh. "Amanda Young? No, she's not here, Madison. She's been dead for while, now. And for good reason!"

I shook violently and tried to respond. "Jaw splitter..."

He stopped smiling. "No, but I wish she had. She deserved it, that stupid bitch. But she got it, in the end... right in the neck."

"Oh my god... you - you killed her?!" I said, heart pounding horribly fast.

"No, no. I don't believe in murdering. That's not what my work is about. It's about testing those who don't appreciate their lives, testing how far their willing to go to save their own lives. That's why they call me Jigsaw, you know? The jigsaw piece I carve on those who fail - it's not a trademark, it's a sign that they were missing a piece of the human puzzle: the survival instinct. I'm sorry - am I scaring you?" He explained.

"Yeah, just a bit. But... what happened? Who killed her, then?" I asked, trying to subdue my nervousness.

"Oh, it's a long story. But she was one of John's many apprentices - which included me. I'll never understand how he ever thought of her as his daughter - it sickened me and still does."

"What? Who's... John? I don't get it..."

"Oh, god. Don't tell me... when was the last time you watched the news? Or read a newspaper?" He sighed, seemingly aggravated.

"I couldn't afford cable... and I was too drunk and tired all the time to bother buying a newspaper." I mumbled.

"Right. Look, I'm not going to sit here and explain every little detail..."

"Sorry... uh, do you have old newspapers, maybe you taped the news...?" I asked, feeling desperate to understand this whole drama.

He hesitated, then nodded. "Actually, yes."

He went to another desk in the room and opened a file cabinet, pulling out a pile of newspapers. He handed them to me and I grabbed them, scanning the dusty surface.

"Happy reading." He said, resuming his seat and opening Leon's folder.

"Okay... thanks..." I muttered, running back to my room to 'study'.


	7. Past & Present

I flipped through the pages of the weak newspapers, each had an unnerving title. Apparently this was worse than I thought, I'd really gotten myself into something. My hands shook and grew cold as ice as I continued to scan the pages. So many horrible things had happened, so many deaths... I was rare. Amanda was the only one who'd survived — except for me... but thanks to my great stupidity and selfishness, no one knew. At least she'd told people, I wasn't even that sensible; and she was a junkie. I didn't know why, but tears started to drip down the side of my face, I didn't make a sound. I had really screwed things up for myself; what had I done... how could I think that this could help... I was such an idiot! Hoffman wasn't even the first guy to do this, he was just an apprentice! It was this John guy... was he still alive? I didn't know anything about this, yet I _basically _joined it! I pushed the papers off my bed and buried my face in the pale blue covers. I'd been so blind... so I needed help... I got it from the most-wanted killer? How is he in any position to help me? He's the one that needs help! I groaned into the covers, I was starting to get a headache. Suddenly I remembered Rick. What ever happened to him? I got up from my bed and went to look for Hoffman. As before, he was 'working' on his sick games; I went over and waited for him to acknowledge me.

"What?" He said, not looking at me.

"What happened to Rick?" I asked.

He had a smile on his face. "Don't take this the wrong way, but... I let him go. I didn't have anything else planned for him... so I had no choice. See, I've become a little sloppy with my tests... I need help, too. Could you do that for me, Madison? It's helping people, after all — you'd be helping them-" he said in a supposedly friendly tone.

"I don't think so." I interjected, my breathing got faster.

He turned back to the folders. "It's all right, you don't have to. I could always use some help, though... if you change your mind."

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. He was really starting to creep me out, a lot. I left without a word and started to go back to my room. I knew exactly what I going to do. I took my cell phone out and hid it in my bra again, then sneaked past Hoffman; he didn't notice. I left the warehouse in a hurry and peered into the car's window, he'd left the key inside and door unlocked. I wasn't the only idiot around here. I jumped in and started it up, in no time I was driving steadily down the road towards my apartment. Once I'd gotten into my room, which was still unlocked and vacant, I grabbed my cell phone's charger and stuck it into the plug-in. Then I got my cell phone out and connected it to the charger. I didn't know how much time I had until Hoffman noticed I was gone. It could be hours — but I didn't want to push my luck. Once I'd left the cell phone charge for about ten minutes, I took it out and turned it on. Eagerly I watched the screen light up, it was very reassuring. I now had a little electronic life-saver in my pocket and ready to go. Before I left I wandered into the bathroom to check on my appearance. I wasn't obsessed or uptight with looks, but I hadn't really gotten the chance to see myself in a mirror for quite some time. The person that met my eyes shocked me. I knew I was an adult — but I didn't think I had wrinkles! Well, they weren't that evident, maybe it was from all this stress... but still... I looked different then I thought. My hair — it was slightly shorter, too. What was going on? I pushed the questions out of my head and ran down the stairs. When I got back to the car I sat down in the leather seat and let my head rest on the steering wheel. I really did heal fast, but I wasn't exactly energized. I flipped open my cell phone and punched in the numbers I had been fantasizing about: 911. This could end up badly, but I was willing to risk it. The dial tone buzzed in the background and I waited patiently. As I did I thought about how everything suddenly seemed like I'd known it before... like I was forgetting something. It was like extreme déjà vu, everything was familiar; and with that came a headache.

"911, what's your emergency?" A kind voice asked.

I hesitated, was it really an _emergency...? _"Ah, can I get the police?"

"Okay, hun, let me connect you."

I waited more, I was starting to have second thoughts.

"Hello, this is the police, what's the matter?" The strong voice echoed.

Before I could stop myself, I blurted it all out. "It's — it's _Jigsaw_, I know where he is!"

"What? Stay on the line!"

I shuddered in my seat and waited impatiently. There were really taking their time, I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel.

"You'd better not be joking! Now, where is he?" Whoever it was spoke again.

"Uh, I can't give an address, I never saw it... but it's... um, it's like a warehouse, in an abandoned looking area, not too far from where I am, actually. I'm on 204th right now, if you just keep going straight from there, and then left and left..." My voice was very shaky.

There was lots of background noise. "All right, can you meet us at the warehouse?"

"What? Why?" That seemed a little dangerous.

"It'll help us find it, and we need you. Can you do that?" They didn't seem like they would take 'no' anyway.

"Okay," I said dryly, then they hung up.

I cleared all logical thoughts from my mind and sped out of the parking lot. In minutes I was back at the warehouse, feeling like death. All the times I'd thought 'this is it', I was wrong. _This_ was it. This was the end, this meant no more murderous psychos, or death traps... or anything I didn't want my life to be! But something always happens... so I didn't try to get my hopes up. I tried my best to sneak back into the shady house, Hoffman was still at work, never even looked up when I entered the room. I tried to leave again, then suddenly he noticed me.

"Madison," he started, a new tone in his shallow voice.

"Y-yes?" I stuttered, meeting his not-so-cold stare.

"I need to talk to you... I need you to understand..." He looked distant, like he was thinking about a long-ago memory.

"What?" I asked, I actually wanted to know what he was going to say for once.

"I - I miss you... It's been so hard to-" he was cut off by a loud ringing noise.

It took me a second to realize that the ringing was my cell phone. I looked at Hoffman's bitter emotion spread across his face. I took out my phone and flipped it open quickly.

"Hello?" My voice was very nervous and high pitched.

"Is this Sarah?" An unfamiliar voice asked blandly at the other end.

"No!" I almost screamed at them, and hung up abruptly.

Hoffman's face twisted into an evil glare. "You called the police, didn't you?"

"No!" I whined, amazed at the desperate note in my voice.

"You did! Madison, you did! You did!" He yelled at me, arising from his chair.

"I - I - I'm sorry!" I cried, my face felt red.

"No, you aren't! Why? Why?" He was enraged now, I backed away.

He walked up to me and I thought he was going to kill me right there. But instead he grabbed my arm tightly and dragged me towards the exit. I let out a small whimper, I wondered if the police had come yet.

"What are you doing?" I asked breathlessly.

"We're leaving this whole city and never coming back, and you know why, Madison?" He yelled at me, gripping my arm tighter.

"I'm sorry! It-"

"Oh, it was an accident that you called the police? Shut up and get in the car!" He growled, pushing me into the passenger seat.

He got in soon after and started the car up, it buzzed to life. I stared at him fearfully, I could see he had a pistol in his jeans pocket.

"A gun? I thought you were against murder! Please... let me go... I won't drink again, I-" I pleaded with him, he was already driving steadily down the highway.

"Shut up, shut up! Give me that cell phone, now!" He said tensely, holding his hand out.

I struggled to pull my cell phone out of my pocket, my hands were shaking horribly in Hoffman's as he took the phone from me. Wait? He was holding me hand!

"L-let go...?" It sounded like more of a question than a demand.

He held it for a little longer, then let go slowly and threw my cell into the back. I stared at him angrily and nervously but he never looked at me. He just kept driving and driving. I leant my body on the side and rested my head on the clear window. Once again, the setting of this scene was all wrong; a beautiful, hot, cloud-less day. The sun shining on me through the window warmed my exposed skin and I felt a bit better. A slight ringing noise entered my ears and I looked behind myself. It was worse than the cell phone, it was about ten police cruisers trailing not too far behind us — they must had caught us leaving.

"Fuck." Hoffman muttered under his breath, he sped up even faster.

"No, slow down... please! Too fast-" I whined, already knowing the answer.

"I said, shut up!" He said loudly, speeding up even more and zig-zagging around cars.

I whimpered more and tried to keep my mind off the sudden dangerous situation. Surely I wouldn't get in trouble, after all... I was a victim, right? My heart jumped and my stomach churned when suddenly Hoffman swerved around a truck and right through a red light into another intersection. I let out a soundless scream and checked behind myself to see two of the police cars collide with a pole and a wall.

"What are you doing? We could've been killed! St-" I pleaded with him.

Instead of yelling at me, he wrapped his hand around my mouth and I let out long, muffled screams. I started to cry softly and they rolled over Hoffman's hands, loosening his tight grip over my mouth. Why did he act like... _that?_ What was it about me that made him so different? He finally lowered his hand and I breathed out heavily, I glanced at the speedometer: 120 km/h. At this point, I was almost one-hundred percent sure that this was the end of me. I should have been dead long ago, but I guess I had some sort of dumb luck. I brushed the tears from my eyes as Hoffman took more dangerous turns and maneuvers. He wiped sweat from his brow and looked behind him.

"I think I lost them," he stated plainly.

"W-what are we going to d-do? You kind of left the warehouse for them to-" I blubbered, hoping he would let me go now that his whole operation was ruined.

He sighed and stopped in the parking lot of an old hotel.

"It's... okay. I only had meaningless scraps and things there... I can continue — we can continue."

I shivered at the last part. _We? _I had many questions and remarks to give him, but I decided to cooperate. We both got out and I followed him into the hotel, he hastily got a room for the night and we went to hideout there. Or at least, that's what I thought. Once we were alone in the room, he sat on the bed and cupped his head in his hands. I wandered to the bathroom to wash up, but Hoffman called my name.

"What?" I replied, expecting the worst, as always.

"I can't... do this anymore... I can't... lie to you... Madison... please, listen..." He said in a small but powerful tone.

I didn't know where he was going — well, of course I knew he hid things from me — but it seemed like it was a big deal. I didn't know how to answer, so I stood there and waited for him to continue.

"It's — everything... you're not twenty-two. You're thirty. You're not an alcoholic, but you _were_. Are you remembering anything yet?"

At first I was completely clueless, but somehow I knew what he was talking about. I almost fell over when I finally realized — he was right. I remembered, I did... I didn't know how much I did, but it was there.

"I - I - I... I'm..." I had to pause to catch my now ragged breath. "I'm thirty."

"Yes... Madison, now, do you remember your... accident? Do you remember _us?_" He put tension on the last part.

"Yes, yes! I remember now... and... and... and..." I trailed off.

Yes, I knew everything now. The car accident I was in, it was the reason for this memory loss, wasn't it? It was all pretty foggy, but I knew — that was enough. I glanced up at Hoffman's face, my heart fluttered. I didn't love him anymore... I knew that, too. My ex-husband — he was Jigsaw? Is this why he was acting so shady before we split up? Tears dropped rapidly from my eyes.

"And...?" Hoffman asked eagerly.

"And, I understand now. Why did you do this to me? I... hate you!" My emotions changed amazingly fast.

"M-Madison? No, no... I did this... for us. I love you, I love you, Madison! I want us to be together... it's the only wa-" he sounded unsure and pleading now — opposite of typical Hoffman.

"No! G-get _away from me! _I... don't love you anymore! It's _over_, how could you do this to me? I'm not, I'm not going to be with you! How could y-" I exploded at him, now that I was in my right mind - and not twenty-two - I let out all my previous anger at him.

He started shaking. I knew a battle was coming.

"But I _love _you. Together, we can take on John's work... together, Madison... I need you, I-" He said in a much lower, darker voice.

"We divorced months ago! Y-you think you can kidnap me after I get in a car crash, where I lose most of memories after I was twenty-two, put me in a death trap... then think I'll re-marry you _and _become a murdering psychopath?! I'll never love you! I'll never become like you!" I screamed, I saw a sick smile spread across his face.

"I did it all... all for us... but if you don't want to appreciate your life... then I won't either..." He almost laughed darkly, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

He pulled the gun he had in his pocket and played with it in his hand. His got up off the bed and swayed in place. I backed away, not sure of what to do; not sure of anything. My pulse quickened and my breathing was dry and short, I frowned at him sadly.

"D-don't do this, please, H-"

"Shut up, Madison. Shut up, shut up, shut... up!" His voice rose loudly, and he lunged forward.

I jumped and cried out, I thought he was about to do something. He laughed, he had only tried to scare me, he succeeded.

"No... no... I-I'm sorry... don't... I want to live! I-" I cried and sobbed, but I heard the click and then bang before I felt it.

A/N: Oh! Slight cliffhanger! Anyways, yeah... I think there'll be at least one more chapter. Don't forget to review! If you don't... I'll be really, really sad. I will cry. Thanks.


	8. Forever

**A/N: **Final chapter! Don't forget to review! Thank you, happy reading.

I stared at Hoffman's sickly pleasured face as I cringed from the sudden pain. The bullet had stuck itself somewhere in my mid-section, I feared the worst. I clasped my hand around the wound and gasped from the burning it'd created. My eyes swelled with tears and blood spilled over my hands, if he still loved me, how could he be enjoying this?

"W-why...?" I choked out, not expecting much from his answer, if any.

He didn't answer, just stood still, smiling. Then his smile faded and he moved his head like he was trying to hear something.

"Shit...!" He muttered angrily under his breath, reloading his gun.

I ignored him and sunk down to my knees in pain, moaning and gasping. I let go of the wound momentarily and blood fell onto the floor, I cried out more loudly. Hoffman swiftly opened the door and looked around the corner, he quickly slammed it closed and locked it. I heard many footsteps echo around and people yelling. But the noises all blurred together and made my head ache, I finally gave up and laid on floor, letting the blood pool up beneath me.

"Open the door!" A man yelled loudly, knocking fast and hard on the door.

Hoffman wiped sweat from his brow and then tightened his grip on the gun. My eyes fluttered and tried to stay open, the pain was so immense... it must have gone through bone. The door suddenly fell down and a hoard of police and S.W.A.T. officers stormed in, throwing Hoffman to the ground. A bunch of them came to me and they started yelling about paramedics and such. At that point I couldn't really hear anything except the weak beats of my heart. I thought things like this were only supposed to happen in movies, but apparently it happened in reality as well. I knew the officers were calling me urgently, but I didn't even give them a glance. My eyes were fixated on Hoffman's blank, emotionless face... yet somehow it seemed so alluring. I knew I didn't — and never would — want to be _with _him again... but at this amazing moment, all I wanted was him. I wanted him to hold me again, like we used to; I wanted to sit down and talk about our days, I wanted everything he'd destroyed.

But my mind was about to slip into unconsciousness, and I knew it; it'd happened many times since this whole ordeal. I laughed to myself soundlessly, blood still slowly falling from my mouth; in the midst of all this chaos, I found dying to be a luxury.

-

Voices echoed around the familiar white room. I found it displeasing that I'd managed to cheat death once again, I didn't deserve it. It was good to know everything though, everything important. Not like when I thought I was much younger, I didn't miss that. And that was why I never had a hangover... I should've gained my memory back earlier, but Hoffman had apparently done a good job misguiding me. Hoffman, I didn't even have words to describe how much hatred I now felt for him.

"She's awake," a nurse called to a man standing at the corner of the room.

He came over to my bedside, he was familiar.

"Madison Hoffman," He stated my name, taking a seat beside me.

"Yes?" I mumbled, annoyed that everyone still knew me with _his _last name; we'd never finalized the divorce.

"I'm detective Hayes, we've met before."

I remembered him now, the detective who'd asked me about what I'd went through; I never did tell them...

"Oh, yes," I said quietly, struggling to keep my eyes open.

"Good, well then, how are you feeling?" He asked.

I noticed that I didn't have pain, I just felt very tired.

"Well, fine, actually..."

"It must be all the morphine they've got you on... but people have to help themselves, right?" He said coyly.

I shivered, it sounded Jigsaw-ish. "R-right. So, what can I help you with?"

"Don't fret; I'm not here to ask questions. Here I have some copies of Hoffman's interrogation... he hasn't been convicted yet. Read through them at your leisure."

I took the papers he was holding and started at the beginning.

_Whitman: Are you Jigsaw?_

_Hoffman: No. _

_W: There's an awful lot of evidence against you. _

_H: I was only part of the game, the real Jigsaw remains. _

_W: Who is the real Jigsaw, then? _

_H: I don't know. _

_W: Yes you do, tell me. _

_H: I don't._

_W: (sighs) I'll come back to that later. What was your part in the game? _

_H: Accomplice._

_W: All right, why did you shoot Madison?_

_H: She failed. _

_W: At what?_

_H: Her... test. _

_W: Right, but she's your wife. Why would -_

_H: She's not my wife. We're divorced. _

_W: Okay, now, back to the first question..._

I gave the papers back to Hayes, I couldn't stand the monotonous conversation any longer. He set the papers on the nightstand, smiling slightly.

"What exactly is the point of this? I'd rather you ask me questions." I told detective Hayes, starting to taste the remains of the blood in my mouth.

"Okay, I will ask you questions. Who do you think the true Jigsaw is?" He asked darkly.

"What? It's Hoffman, he's only lying. I saw his little workshop..." I trailed off, waiting for his amazement at my answer.

"I know," he said.

I looked at him questioningly. How could he _know? _

"Excuse me?"

"Connect the dots, Madison." He said almost whispered, giving off a sinister feel.

It only took me two-seconds to realize it. I remembered back when I was in the hospital from escaping my game.

"_Give it up, Andre." Hayes mumbled, pressing his back slightly. _

He never wanted Andre to find out... he wanted Hoffman to recruit me, or something along those lines... he was in on this from the start!

"Y-you're..." I paused to collect my thoughts. "_Jigsaw?_"

He smiled faintly and then stopped abruptly. "I want to play a game,"

My heart stopped beating and my eyes grew wide. This couldn't be happening, it was over! I escaped, I was free...!

"No!" I cried, but my voice fell onto Hayes' hand.

"Don't scream, I don't think I need to explain why." He muttered coldly as I struggled to get his hand off my mouth.

"The rules are simple..." He started.

Tears rolled down my cheeks and I stopped struggling. It was happening over again, like a reoccurring nightmare.

**A/N 2:** Wow, finally the end! It's actually the first time I've ended a story, ever. I feel so accomplished... ha ha. And it's sort of open for a sequel... but I think I'll just leave it here. Please tell me what you think! Review, pretty please? Thanks for reading. Hope it wasn't too confusing, with all the plot twists. Heh.


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